


the moment: take two

by ineedmygirl



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Bokuto is a ray of sunshine, Boys Kissing, Fluff, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, MSBY Black Jackals - Freeform, Pining Tsukishima Kei, Schweiden Adlers - Freeform, but not theirs, that was not easy to spell, there's some breakups, tsukishima's legs kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25152619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineedmygirl/pseuds/ineedmygirl
Summary: By all accounts, it should have been one of the worst nights of Tsukishima’s life. Of course, with Bokuto by his side, that became an impossibility.
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Tsukishima Kei, past Tsukishima Kei/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 65
Kudos: 382





	the moment: take two

**Author's Note:**

> instead of complaining about the lack of bokutsukki content, i have made my own instead :)
> 
> [moodboard](https://twitter.com/oiiblondie/status/1281391257563140096?s=20)  
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/oiiblondie)

If only the night’s surprises had ended with Hinata Shoyou answering the front door.

“Tsukishima!” Hinata is wearing jeans and a bright blue button down, his fiery orange hair pushed back with gel and a glass of some sort of dark liquid in his hand. When he opens the door and sees Tsukishima standing on the other side, the glass almost drops right out of his hand, eyes blowing comically wide.

It’s not like Tsukishima can blame him. He hardly expected his old high school volleyball teammate and (Tsukishima can begrudgingly admit after eight years) friend to be at the home of the client he was supposed to be meeting tonight.

“What are you doing here?” Tsukishima shifts the large square bag with his massage table folded up inside of it on his shoulder. It’s heavy as all hell and already starting to make his arm go numb, just from the walk to the house from the train station. _He’s_ going to need a massage therapist after this.

Hinata’s eyes flit nervously between Tsukishima and somewhere over his shoulder into the house. He inches the door further closed so that only half of his face is peeking out.

“What am _I_ doing here?” He repeats, voice cracking. “What the - What - What are _you_ doing here?”

“Someone made an appointment with me for tonight at this address. Now get out of my way, this bag is getting heavy.”

It had been a pretty vague message, actually, sent to his work phone a few evenings prior. The person said that Tsukishima was recommended to them by a friend, and that’s where they got his number from, but refused to tell Tsukishima their name. It was pretty standard, a lot of professional athletes preferred to stay anonymous until they could get Tsukishima to sign an NDA promising not to release any of their personal information to the public, take indecent pictures during the massage, or anything like that. The client said that they required Tsukishima’s ‘personal services’, which was a weird way to phrase it, but definitely not the weirdest he’s ever seen.

Hinata squawks indignantly and tries valiantly to keep Tsukishima from entering the house for some inane reason, but Tsukishima easily shoulders past him, using his table as a wedge to pry the door open and slip through it.

“Wait, you really shouldn’t -!”

Tsukishima freezes as a roomful of heads turn to look at him.

He recognizes some of them. Unsurprisingly, Kageyama is one of them. Even though he and Hinata didn’t even play for the same team anymore, it was rare to find one without the other being not far behind. The blonde with the undercut is Atsumu Miya, and the one with the moles and the face mask sitting beside him is Sakusa Kiyoomi. And that’s Hoshiumi Korai, isn’t it? His hair is much shorter now, but he has the same beady eyes that regard Tsukishima in surprise. Nicollas Romero has the unmistakable thick scruff that none of the younger men have managed to grow yet, easily recognizable even though he’s only met Romero a few times before. There are a couple of other guys he’s never seen before there, too, and like Hinata, all of the men are dressed nicely with drinks in hand.

Kageyama’s face scrunches up and he squints at Tsukishima like he’s a particularly difficult test question (which, for Kageyama, could be any test question).

“What are you doing here?”

“Seriously? I haven’t seen either of you in almost three months and that’s all the two of you can say to me?” Tsukishima scowls at both of his former teammates. Kageyama’s face un-scrunches slowly, and Hinata winces.

“Sorry, sorry!” He apologizes quickly. “Hi, it’s good to see you, we should all totally catch up soon! But, uh, really… Why are you here?”

Tsukishima rolls his eyes and pats his bag like it should be obvious.

“I’m supposed to be meeting a client here tonight.” He looks at the other occupants of the room again to try and guess which one of them it might have been.

It’s not totally out of the realm of possibility that one of these professional athletes had hired him, after all. He’s a sports massage therapist, he works with people like this all the time - hell, sometimes he even works with _these_ specific people. He knows way more than he ever wanted to about Atsumu’s tight glutes, and the soreness in Hoshiumi’s calves that he _insists_ are ‘growing pains’ (he wishes).

Hinata shifts nervously and Kageyama turns his scowl onto the rest of the room, fixing each person with it in turn. Atsumu raises his hands innocently, Hoshiumi shrugs, and Sakusa and Romero simply shake their heads. Tsukishima doesn’t know what the big deal is, why the air is suddenly tense, or why some of the guys he doesn’t recognize are snorting ugly laughs under their breath now.

“Uh, Tsukishima,” Hinata starts again nervously when no one fesses up. “I think there might have been a mistake. You should _really_ go before -”

“Kei.”

All of the air in Tsukishima’s lungs forcibly exits his body, heart seizing up in horror.

He knows that voice. Oh, it’s been almost a year now, but he _knows_ that voice in every bone of his body. He knows it early in the morning, still rough with sleep, and when it’s light with humor and a few drinks, in the throes of passion, and whispered with their heads ducked close together late at night under the covers.

Correction: He _knew_ that voice.

“Ah, there he is! The man of the hour!” One of the men Tsukishima doesn’t know stands up and claps Ushijima hard enough on the shoulder that some of his drink sloshes over the side of his cup. Ushijima doesn’t seem to notice it at all, which is surprising since in any other situation, he would immediately move to clean it up so it didn’t stain the hardwood floors. He just stares with his lips turned down at Tsukishima, who is standing like the world’s dumbest statue in the middle of the living room. “You’re just in time, the entertainment we ordered for the night is finally here!”

Hinata mutters a curse under his breath and Atsumu slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes going wide. Clearly, everyone else in this room knows something that Tsukishima doesn’t, and it makes his skin prickle and itch as they all continue to stare at him.

“Waka -” Tsukishima clears his throat to cover the blunder. “Ushijima. I - uh -” His tongue trips in his mouth helplessly. He really would have preferred a warning at least 3-5 business days in advance in order to prepare for seeing Ushijima Wakatoshi again.

“What is going on here?” Ushijima asks, brows furrowed in confusion, a look that’s so painfully familiar it makes Tsukishima want to rip it off his face just so he won’t have to look at it anymore.

“He’s just your type, eh, Wakatoshi?” Another one of the unfamiliar men laughs with a wink, clinking their glasses together sloppily. “Perfect for one last hurrah before the big day!”

As Tsukishima stands there before his ex-boyfriend, feeling like a complete fool, all of the pieces fall into place in his mind.

“Oh.” Tsukishima thinks he might be sick. “Oh my god. This is… This is your bachelor party.”

Ushijima’s expression doesn't change, but his eyes shift somewhere past Tsukishima’s shoulder instead of meeting his gaze.

Wow. Okay, then.

“I’m just -” Tsukishima jerks his thumb towards the front door, feet already starting to back his way out of the room. “Yeah. I’m just gonna leave now.”

“Aw, come on!” Nameless Asshole #3 whines, sitting back and spreading his legs. “How bout just one dance? We paid a lot to get you here, you know. I’ve been looking forward to this _all day,”_ he drawls with a slimy grin. 

_Dance?_ Tsukishima grits his teeth and tries to control his breathing. Even if that _was_ his job, he’d never do a damn thing for these disgusting lowlives.

“It’s a good thing I take payment up front,” Tsukishima says in as controlled of a voice as he can manage. “I’ll be sure to give myself a very generous fifty percent tip for all the trouble I went to this evening.”

The man with his hand on Ushijima’s shoulder scowls and points a meaty finger in Tsukishima’s direction. “You want a tip that big, you better earn it,” he warns.

Tsukishima hears someone take in a sharp breath. He might have thought it was him if it wasn’t for the fact that he wasn’t sure he was actually breathing right now.

“I’ll give him all the ‘tip’ he wants,” one of the men on the couch whispers none-too-discretely to the man sitting next to him, as if this situation couldn’t possibly get any more demeaning. Talking about Tsukishima like he isn’t even there, making crude comments about him right in front of Ushijima. 

Not that his ex-boyfriend even seemed to care.

Every inch of Tsukishima’s skin is on fire. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so embarrassed in his life.

“Hey!” Kageyama barks, suddenly rising from his seat to tower over the man who had spoken, grabbing the front of his shirt in a tight fist and jerking him out of his seat.

“That’s our friend!” Hinata adds furiously, stepping in front of Tsukishima like he can block him from the others’ view with his five-foot-something stature. It’s a kind gesture, however futile it may be. It’s more than anyone else is doing for him.

Swallowing what little dignity he has left, Tsukishima puts a hand on Hinata’s shoulder and shakes his head when he looks up at him. “It’s okay guys,” Tsukishima says loudly, to cut across the hushed chatter that had broken out and the grinding of Kageyama’s teeth. “I don’t need you to defend me.”

“But -!”

“Enough,” Tsukishima cuts Hinata off firmly. He gives his friend’s shoulder a quick squeeze of appreciation and holds his chin as high as he can when he addresses Ushijima again. “Congratulations on your engagement,” he says flatly. “He’s a very lucky man.”

Finally, Ushijima meets his eyes. 

Tsukishima wishes he hadn’t. It strikes him like a punch to the stomach.

“I am engaged to a woman, actually.”

Tsukishima bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood. “Of course. Well, congratulations to her as well. If you’ll all excuse me.” He bows his head politely, refusing to meet the eyes of anyone in the room. He doesn’t want any of them to see whatever he might be showing there.

Hinata calls something after him, and he can hear Kageyama starting to raise his voice angrily again at the other men in the room, but he just grips the strap of his bag tightly and walks right out the door. He doesn’t turn around again, not even when he hears footsteps coming down the staircase and an exuberant voice saying:

“Hey hey, what’s all the commotion down here? What did I miss? Woah, hey - Was that Tsukki?”

The door shuts firmly behind him, sealing away all of the noise and commotion behind it, leaving Tsukishima alone in the quiet of the night. He keeps his eyes trained on the moon high up in the sky as he walks, letting gravity keep any hot, angry tears that threaten to escape trapped in their ducts. Tsukishima is far past his days of crying over Ushijima Wakatoshi.

For their first reunion since the last of Ushijima’s boxes had been moved out of their shared apartment that Tsukishima now lives in alone, that…could have gone better.

It could have gone worse. Probably. Tsukishima can’t think of a single way that could have gone worse, but there must be at least one…

He could have cried in front of them all. That would have been much worse. He’s never cried in front of Ushijima before, not even when they were going through the long, painful process of breaking up. He always made sure to leave the room first, or hide it in the shower. Wait until Ushijima was asleep, laying in the bed right next to him, and bury his face in his pillow to muffle his sobs.

At least he kept up his streak.

Tsukishima hears the door open and close behind him and feet pounding on the pavement chasing after him. He’s already halfway down the block and doesn’t make an effort to slow down or even turn around to see who it is. Probably just Hinata or Kageyama coming to check on him or - 

“Tsukki! Hey, Tsukki, wait up!”

Or not.

Tsukishima pointedly does _not_ wait up. He doesn’t walk any faster either, though, and it doesn't take Bokuto long to reach him, panting slightly from jogging the block to catch up with him.

“Have your legs gotten longer or something?” Bokuto wipes fake sweat from his brow and grins.

“Maybe you’ve just gotten old,” Tsukishima bites back instinctively.

Bokuto hums and falls into step beside him. “I think you might be right. My hair’s been looking a little grey lately.”

Tsukishima glances at Bokuto out of the corner of his eye and scoffs when he sees that the other man’s hair is still obviously dyed a striking silver color. Bokuto laughs at his own joke with his head thrown back and really, it’s only been a little over a year since Tsukishima saw him last, but he hasn’t changed much since they were teenagers. He feels a little, if not most, of his anger bleeding away at the sight.

“Did Wakatoshi send you after me to make sure I get home okay?” Tsukishima asks tiredly. He doesn’t bother forcing himself to fight the way Ushijima’s first name rolls more naturally off his tongue. It’s only Bokuto, after all. “Because I’m fine.”

“I know you are.” Bokuto scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “Actually, uh, Ushijima told me not to come after you. He said you would probably want your space.”

“He was right.” Tsukishima huffs, hiking his bag further up his shoulder, only a little annoyed at how well the other man still knew him. “So why are you here?”

Bokuto grins brightly, like he’d just been waiting for Tsukishima to ask. “I decided that you shouldn’t be alone!”

“You decided that for me, huh?” Tsukishima arches a brow and Bokuto shrinks a little bit.

“I just, uh, well… Hinata told me what happened,” he says, more solemn than Tsukishima has ever seen him. “I’m sorry. Really, really sorry, Tsukki, I don’t even know what else to say. Those guys are assholes.”

“Who the hell were they, anyways?”

Bokuto’s nose scrunches up, eyebrows pinching together. “Bunch of junior players from the Adlers. They’re always kissing Ushijima’s ass, trying to get on his good side like he has any say in who the starting lineup is. If he did, I don’t think they’d see a second of playing time after the stunt they pulled tonight.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Tsukishima’s lips twist into a wry smile. “It was pretty funny. Invite the groom’s ex-boyfriend to his bachelor party without telling him what it is, and then treat him like he’s a stripper? That’s comedy gold right there.”

He’s laughing on the inside. Really.

“If any of those deadbeats ever actually get a chance on the court, I’ll smash a spike right in their faces for you, Tsukki,” Bokuto says very seriously.

Tsukishima chances another look over at him, and the fiery look in his eyes makes something warm and safe unfurl in his chest, the way it always has.

He used to see Bokuto fairly regularly when he and Ushijima were still together, at charity events and games and such. He was always the first person to stick himself by Tsukishima’s side when Ushijima was pulled away by some sponsor or another, leaving him standing awkwardly alone, and he always managed to find Tsukishima in the stands and wave to him when the Adlers and Black Jackals played each other. But after the breakup, Tsukishima couldn’t bring himself to go to things like that anymore. To be around people who would only look at him and see ‘Ushijima Wakatoshi’s ex-boyfriend’.

It’s nice to know that even now, after everything that happened, he still has Bokuto’s loyalty.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. Bokuto’s face goes slack with surprise before lighting up like a fireworks display, nearly blinding Tsukishima and rendering him stunned for a good half a minute.

(That hasn’t changed at all since high school, either.)

“You still live around here?” Bokuto asks. Tsukishima nods - he probably should move out of the apartment he and Ushijima lived in together at some point. Soon. “Great! I can walk you back.”

“That’s okay.” Tsukishima shakes his head. “I took the train. I can just -”

“No, no, no!” Bokuto protests quickly. “Let me walk you back! I haven’t seen you in ages, let’s catch up, okay?” He tugs on Tsukishima’s arm and widens his eyes pleadingly. Tsukishima worries his lip between his teeth and averts his gaze. It’s so much harder to deny Bokuto anything when you’re actually looking at him.

“I’ve got all my stuff, and I -”

“I’ll carry it for you!” Bokuto offers before Tsukishima can even finish his sentence.

“It’s too heavy,” Tsukishima protests. His apartment is a half hour walk away, and that bag is at least twenty or thirty pounds.

“Nah, this is nothing.” Bokuto takes the bag off of Tsukishima’s shoulder and lifts it like a piece of gym equipment over his head a few times, not having to strain a single muscle to do so. “See? Piece of cake. Now come on, let’s go.” He holds out his hand, hair glowing like a silvery halo in the moonlight, navy blue shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and a soft smile meant just for Tsukishima on his face.

And just like that, Tsukishima is a fifteen year old kid again, with the world’s most hopeless crush on one of the top five aces in the country.

*

“Hmmm.” Bokuto taps his chin thoughtfully as they walk, arms swinging between them. They came dangerously close to brushing a few times, so Tsukishima has his clasped safely together in front of him instead. “Let’s see, what important things do I need to catch you up on. Oh! I got a bird. Like, as a pet.”

“My condolences.” Tsukishima smirks.

“Hey!” Bokuto frowns, but he’s obviously fighting a smile. “Miso makes a great pet!”

“You named your bird Miso?” Tsukishima hides a snicker behind his hand.

“And so what if I did?” Bokuto puffs his chest up indignantly. “He’s very helpful around the house, if you must know. He wakes me up at six am on the dot every morning!”

“Oh, I’m sure Akaashi loves that,” Tsukishima says drily. He remembers well enough how much Akaashi always liked his sleep, ever since they were teenagers. He was always one of the last players at breakfast during training camp, lethargic and puffy-eyed for at least the first hour of practice.

Bokuto trips over a crack in the sidewalk, yelping in pain and bending over to grab his toe. He must have forgotten about Tsukishima’s work bag over his shoulder, however, and the added weight throws him off balance and pulls him to the ground. He doesn’t appear to be seriously hurt, other than his bruised ego, so Tsukishima allows himself a quick burst of laughter, unable to keep a straight face with Bokuto’s cheeks flushing red and sprawled out on the ground like that.

“You know, I’ve heard announcers at games refer to you as a prime example of ‘athleticism’ and ‘powerful grace’. I wonder now if they had you confused with someone else.”

“Very funny, Tsukki,” Bokuto grumbles, accepting Tsukishima’s outstretched hand and jumping to his feet again, picking the discarded bag off the ground. “Ah,” he starts awkwardly as he smoothes the wrinkles out of his shirt, not meeting Tsukishima’s eyes. “Akaashi and I don’t live together anymore.”

“Oh.” Tsukishima blinks. That’s news to him. “Why not?”

“Sorry, I should have been more clear.” They start walking again. “Akaashi and I aren’t together at all anymore.”

That is _definitely_ news to him.

Ever since high school, Tsukishima never knew Bokuto and Akaashi as anything except _BokutoandAkaashi._ One single, inseparable entity. He was actually starting to get worried that in his self-imposed post-breakup isolation, he was going to miss their wedding or something.

But now Bokuto is just… Bokuto.

Tsukishima isn’t entirely sure what to do with that information.

“I’m sorry,” he says first and foremost, because he is. If any couple deserved to make it all the way, it was Bokuto and Akaashi. They were too of the best people Tsukishima had ever known, and when they were together, they seemed to shine. “I had no idea.”

“It’s okay!” Bokuto says quickly. “Really, Akaashi and I are on super good terms!”

“Oh.” Tsukishima frowns and silently chides himself. Just because his breakup had taken a chunk out of his heart with a rusty knife didn’t mean that every relationship ended that way. Sometimes they could even be…painless. 

What a concept.

“Yeah,” Bokuto continues. “We just kinda realized that volleyball was the main thing keeping us together, and without it… When I started leaving for training camps more often, and his work deadlines kept him at the office at pretty much all hours of the day, we decided it wasn’t really worth it anymore. Called it quits on the relationship thing and went back to just being friends. Best decision ever, really, because now we can still talk and hang out whenever we’re both free without all the added pressure of dating! He’s still my best friend.”

Not for the first time in his life, Tsukishima wonders how it is scientifically possible for someone like Bokuto to exist.

Someone so full of…light. And happiness. Optimistic and loving, even in situations that would shatter a lesser person (read: Tsukishima) to pieces. Bokuto is able to take every bad thing in the world and spin it around until it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Tsukishima doesn’t doubt that at first, Bokuto took the breakup badly, much like he did when his spikes were shut down too many times in a row in a game.

But all the same, Bokuto Koutarou always bounces back, without fail.

Tsukishima clears his throat and shoves his hands into his pockets. “I thought Kuroo was your best friend.”

Bokuto snorts. “As if! That nerd has been so busy lately, I barely hear from him!”

“Barely?” Tsukishima repeats skeptically.

“Only, like, once a day!” Bokuto whines and Tsukishima stifles a laugh. So, nothing has changed there at least. Bokuto and Kuroo were just as codependent as ever.

“He’s a research assistant in the States now, you can’t really expect him to be available twenty-four-seven anymore. He’s in a completely different time zone.”

“He can have his best friend status back when he’s in the same time zone as me, then. And brings me back a lot of apology souvenirs.” Bokuto sniffs indignantly and Tsukishima takes one hand out of his pocket to cover his smile. Bokuto looks over at him and catches him though, grinning proudly to himself.

“Jesus,” Tsukishima groans, tilting his head up to look at the stars. “Do you think it’s lame that we’re the only two out of the four of us that are still here? Still hanging onto volleyball?”

“I don’t think so,” Bokuto says honestly. He cocks his head to the side like a curious puppy. “Do you?”

_I did until now._

“No. I guess not.”

“Good,” Bokuto says, sounding genuinely pleased that Tsukishima agrees with him. “I gotta say though, I did never would have thought it would be me and _you_ still playing! I saw one of your games on TV once, you’re even better now than you used to be Tsukki!”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Tsukishima smirks. “Or did you block the memory of me completely stuffing you at that charity game from your memory?”

Bokuto’s jaw drops and he sputters defensively, and Tsukishima can’t help but remember the completely gobsmacked look on his face when it happened. It was about two years ago, some charity game that his old coach Ukai had arranged, and invited a bunch of the guys from high school who still played professionally to take part in. Tsukishima had agreed, mostly because Ushijima’s manager had advised him that it would be good publicity for him, and at the time, Tsukishima went wherever Ushijima did.

Tsukishima probably would have ended up being pestered to go by Hinata or Kageyama or - god forbid - Koganegawa anyways, and he wasn’t a monster. He cared about charity and stuff.

He hadn’t known Bokuto was going to be there, though he wasn’t surprised to see him. They drew colored straws to divide the teams, and Tsukishima found himself in the familiar position of staring down wide, piercing yellow eyes from the other side of the net.

Bokuto was still much better than him, of course, and Tsukishima and Koganegawa only managed to slow him down a few times. If it had been anyone else blocking with him, he’s not sure they would’ve been able to get a single finger on the ball, but luckily he and the Date Tech alumni played on the Sendai Frogs together now and worked well as a team.

The teams were split pretty evenly, and the second set was going into the 30’s when it happened. The one glorious moment that Tsukishima saw every time he closed his eyes for weeks thereafter.

Bokuto’s team was up by one point, and Kageyama set him such a precision-perfect ball that it made Tsukishima grind his teeth. He crouched down to get ready to jump, already mentally preparing for the disappointment of having Bokuto power through him for the dozenth time that match. 

And then, right as Bokuto’s feet left the ground, the millisecond before his palm collided with the ball, Tsukishima saw his focus break. Found an opening, a moment of weakness, and without telling Koganegawa what he was about to do, jumped right in the path of Bokuto’s killer line shot and smacked it right back down onto the other side of the net.

When their feet touched the ground again, eyes meeting from opposite sides of the net, Tsukishima felt a thrill bigger than the one he felt when he first shut down Ushijima course through his veins. Bokuto’s expression was priceless, gorgeously taken-aback, shock and…and pride written so clearly across his face.

That might be Tsukishima’s favorite game that he ever played - and it was all just for charity.

“That - That didn’t count!” Bokuto insists stubbornly. Tsukishima raises his eyebrows.

“Why not? It was a clean play, wasn’t it? Perfectly legal.”

“There was nothin’ legal about that,” Bokuto grumbles under his breath.

“Huh?”

“I, uh, I said I was just distracted!”

“Distracted? By what?” Tsukishima has never seen anything take precedence over volleyball for Bokuto during a match.

Bokuto’s mouth opens and then quickly slams shut again with an audible _clack._ His eyes flicker from Tsukishima’s face down to the ground and back up again, the tips of his ears turning bright red.

“Actually, did I say distracted? I meant, uh - Dis…cat…dead! Yeah! My cat had just died! So I wasn’t, you know, my head wasn’t in the game.” He nods so hard Tsukishima is afraid he’s going to bruise his brain. “That’s exactly what it was.”

“Okay.” Tsukishima shrugs. “You have me convinced.”

Bokuto pauses, and blinks at him. “Really?”

“Obviously not.” Tsukishima rolls his eyes. Bokuto really was always too gullible for his own good. Not for lack of intelligence as some people tended to misinterpret it, just too trusting.

“Mean, Tsukki! Really, really mean!” Bokuto crosses his arms and pouts.

“Why don’t you just admit that I out-played you?” Tsukishima taunts. He’s half joking, half interested to see if he can rile Bokuto up enough that he slips and tells him the truth. Obviously he doesn’t think he could ever actually out-play Bokuto at volleyball, but he’s interested to know what the hell actually happened that day that gave him the slightest chance.

“Because you didn’t! I’ll take you on in a rematch any day and prove it to you! I’ll definitely win this time, just as long as you don’t -” Bokuto catches his mistake just a moment too late. Just like during the charity game, Tsukishima takes that tiny moment of weakness and digs in.

“Just as long as I don’t what?” Tsukishima presses. Bokuto purses his lips together and shakes his head. “Ah, I get it,” Tsukishima sighs in mock sympathy. “I knew you were just making up excuses this whole time. Don’t worry, though, I won’t tell Hinata or anything. I’m sure it would just _crush_ him to know that the person he looks up to the most in the whole wide world can’t even own up to his shortcomings. Yeah, that would really kill him. I don’t think he could ever look at you the same way again. He might even quit -”

“Your legs!” Bokuto blurts out. As soon as the words are out, he claps his hands over his mouth and stares at Tsukishima with wide eyes.

“My - What?” Did he hear that right?

Bokuto groans loudly behind his hands and slowly peels them away, ducking his head and staring steadfastly at the sidewalk in front of him.

“Before you jumped for the block,” Bokuto mumbles low enough that Tsukishima can barely make out the words. “You, ah, you were - Like, when you were getting ready to jump, your shorts, um. They like, got pushed up. A little bit.” The back of his neck is glowing red now like a bad sunburn and Tsukishima is still not sure he’s processing this moment correctly.

“You’re saying that you missed that spike,” Tsukishima says slowly. “Because you were distracted. By my legs.” 

His own face is starting to feel hot now, too.

“I was worried about you getting disqualified for breaking uniform regulations.”

“Really.”

“Of course really!” Bokuto laughs nervously. “They can be very strict about those things, you know?”

“It was a charity game at my old high school. The ref was literally Coach Ukai.”

Bokuto sighs heavily but there’s a little smile playing at his lips when he looks over at Tsukishima. “You never make anything easy for people, do ya, Tsukki?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Tsukishima finds himself smiling back. And wow, he’s missed Bokuto. He’s sorry he ever let his breakup with Ushijima take this away from him. It was so stupid, especially since he knew Bokuto first, and even to this day, Bokuto has always known him better.

“Hm.” Bokuto taps his chin, eyes sparkling with mischief. Never a good sign, in Tsukishima’s experience. “Maybe I’ll come see you play in person instead of just watching you on TV next time, eh Tsukki?”

“Don’t even think about it,” Tsukishima warns. He knows if Bokuto was sitting in the stands cheering for him, he would give ‘distracted’ a whole new meaning. The number of balls he’d probably end up taking to the face because he was too busy watching Bokuto out of the corner of his eye, smiling bright enough to make the gym lights look like they weren't even on, would be too many to count. “Though I suppose it would only be fair, since it’s you.”

“Really?” Bokuto perks up. “How come?”

“You’re the reason I’m even still playing,” Tsukishima says it like it should be obvious, because really, it should be.

Bokuto points one finger at himself questioningly. “Me? I am?”

Tsukishima nods. He’s not sure why Bokuto is acting so surprised, he saw with his own eyes at Nationals the change that practicing with him at the Tokyo training camp had made in Tsukishima. He can still vividly remember hearing Bokuto’s voice in the middle of a match from the sidelines where he and Akaashi were watching saying, _‘there he goes, that’s our Tsukki!’_

If he started trying just a little bit harder after that, well, who was to know?

“You were right. About the moment thing, I mean. And it never would’ve happened for me if you and Akaashi and Kuroo hadn’t taken an interest in me. In helping me get better. So, thanks for that. I guess.”

He probably should’ve thanked Bokuto sooner than this, in all honestly. Thanked him for taking an interest in some scrawny first-year middle blocker who wasn’t even on his team, for putting in the time and effort to break through Tsukishima’s defenses and giving him an entirely new perspective on the game. On life, in general, really. Bokuto and Akaashi and Kuroo - they all taught him that year that caring about things hurt sometimes, but that didn’t mean they weren’t worth caring about.

Tsukishima applied that lesson to many things in his life after that training camp: Volleyball, school, his relationship with his brother and his teammates. _Bokuto._

Bokuto doesn’t say anything for an anxiety-inducing amount of time. When Tsukishima finally glances over at him, he sees the older boy staring at him with an expression similar to the one he wore during the charity game. Absolute shock.

“Wow, Tsukki,” he says finally, looking suspiciously teary-eyed. “I had no idea that talk meant so much to you! I thought you just pretended to listen to all of my rambling so you wouldn't hurt my feelings!”

Tsukishima frowns. “Why would I do that?”

“Dunno,” Bokuto shrugs one shoulder. “That’s what most people do.”

A bubbling, acidic anger builds up in the pit of Tsukishima’s stomach. It’s made only worse by the fact that Bokuto doesn’t look put off by the admission at all, like it’s happened to him so many times that it doesn’t even phase him anymore. Like people told him enough times that what he said wasn’t worth listening to, and he started believing them.

Tsukishima could - He could just - Well, maybe not _kill_ them. He’s not sure he has the stomach for that. But he would do something truly terrible to them if he ever found out who they were.

“Well, that’s ridiculous.” He reaches out and squeezes Bokuto’s hand in his quickly before dropping it again, his palm burning. “They’re missing a lot of really good stuff.”

Bokuto’s lips tug into a half-grin. “Ya think so?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san. I do.”

Bokuto’s nose wrinkles in distaste.

“Aw, c’mon! Still with the -san? What gives, you stopped using honorifics with Akaashi and Kuroo ages ago!” He whines.

_That’s because I could afford to let myself get familiar with them._

“I’m only being polite,” Tsukishima lies. “What’s the big deal?”

“I don’t want you to be polite with me!” Bokuto huffs.

“You want me to be rude to you?”

Bokuto blinks over at him innocently. “You weren’t already doing that?”

He manages to keep his composure for all of five seconds, before doubling over, clutching his stomach with the force of his laughter, almost falling to the ground again. The force of Bokuto’s happiness literally rivals gravity itself.

“Oh - Oh, Tsukki,” he gasps, grabbing Tsukishima’s hand and pulling him to a stop with him. “You - You should - Your face right now! Oh, god, I can’t!” He dissolves into laughter again, and Tsukishima can’t see his own face right now, but he’s sure it isn’t _that_ funny.

Is it?

Still, Bokuto is the kind of person who you want to laugh along with, even when you don’t know what you’re laughing at.

*

At the next street sign they pass, Tsukishima realizes that they’re almost halfway to his apartment now.

A bone-deep disappointment sinks in and makes Tsukishima’s lungs feel too small for all the air he needs to breathe. What happens after this? After they reach their destination and there’s no more reason for Bokuto to stay? Will they start to stay in touch better after this, or will things just go back to the way they were before? Tsukishima knows that he and Akaashi have broken up now… Does that make a difference? Should that make a difference?

(Is he ever going to get over this stupid goddamn crush?)

Whatever the answers to those questions are, all Tsukishima knows is that he doesn’t want this, right now, to end. He feels more like himself, walking down these empty city streets with Bokuto, than he has since the breakup. Maybe even since before then.

“So,” Bokuto nudges him with his elbow, physically pulling Tsukishima from his spiraling thoughts. He doesn’t know if it was just convenient timing, or if Bokuto did it on purpose because he could see Tsukishima’s inner turmoil written all over his face. “You finally had the moment. I’ve seen you play a lot of really good games, so you gotta tell me: Which one was it?”

Tsukishima lets the memory bubble up like acid and sting his insides, then simmer into something more palatably bittersweet before answering. It’s not a bad memory, it’s actually one of his best, but it still hurts to think about.

“When we played Shiratorizawa in the qualifiers for Nationals my first year and I completely shut down Wakatoshi’s spike.” 

He apparently doesn’t completely succeed in hiding the resentment in his voice, because Bokuto very gently says, like he’s talking to a spooked animal, “That’s okay, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No.” Tsukishima inhales slowly through his nose, then out through his mouth. He wants to do this, if not for Bokuto, then for himself. “It’s okay, really. When I stopped Ushijima’s spike, that was when I finally had my moment. All of the hard work and the hours of training I had put into volleyball finally paid off, and maybe it wouldn’t mean anything one day in the long run, but in that moment… It was everything.”

“I wish I could have been there to see it,” Bokuto sighs longingly.

“In a way, you kind of were,” Tsukishima admits, ducking his head shyly. “In that moment, all I could hear was your voice in my head telling me, warning me, that one day my moment would come and that it was gonna hook me - and it did.”

It wasn’t the first time he heard Bokuto’s voice in his head, cheering him on when he needed it most. It certainly wasn’t the last, either.

“Yeah?” Bokuto grins at him and his eyes sparkle like a sky full of stars, of nebulas and galaxies.

“Yeah. And then, after the match…” Tsukishima sees Bokuto’s shoulders tense up. He’s heard this part of the story before, at parties and dinners and dozens of charity events where nosey reporters and sponsors and gossips wanted to know everything there was to know about the Adlers’ powerhouse wing spiker and the mystery boy on his arm. “Wakatoshi came and found me before our bus left, congratulated me on a game well-played and asked me for my number. He said he wanted me to keep him updated on how Karasuno did at Nationals, but even after that we stayed in touch, talked about things besides volleyball and met up a few times, and eventually started dating. So I guess that game was my moment in more ways than one.”

As hollow and miserable as the breakup was, Tsukishima would never deny himself or Ushijima the fact that their relationship had been much more than that. It was butterflies in the beginning and a flowering garden in the middle and a slow, leaky faucet at the end, but it had its moments of greatness. In Tsukishima’s mind, Ushijima would never be anything less than synonymous with greatness, from the first time he saw his face in a volleyball magazine spread to the last kiss he placed on Tsukishima’s tear-stained cheek the day he left.

“You’re gonna have more moments, you know?”

Tsukishima looks over at Bokuto in surprise, and finds the other man looking at him with earnest eyes, streetlights overhead making the shadowy set of his brows all the more serious. Tsukishima knew this already, logically, but hearing Bokuto say it out loud makes his heart settle more comfortably in his chest.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.” Tsukishima laughs humorlessly. “It’s fine, honestly. It’s not like I ever thought Wakatoshi and I were going to get married or anything.”

Bokuto’s eyebrows jump in surprise. “Really? Why not? He kind of seems like he’d be prime husband material.” His eyes grow wide and horrified. “I mean - Not for everyone! Not - definitely not for me! And not, I guess, not you… Which isn’t your fault, obviously just, sometimes two people, uh…”

“Bokuto?”

“Mhm?”

“Stop talking now.”

Bokuto lets out a puff of relieved breath. “Yup. Got it.”

A hint of a smile fights at Tsukishima’s lips, coaxing and hard to resist when Bokuto sheepishly grins at him and ruffles his hair self-consciously in a perfect mirror-image of the way he did when he was seventeen years old and Akaashi had just named one of his many catalogued weaknesses in front of the entire third gym. If it was cute then, it’s painfully endearing now.

Tsukishima takes a moment to collect his thoughts. It was never simple, putting into words why he and Ushijima had broken up, mostly because nothing had ever actually gone wrong between them. There was no fighting, no cheating, no lying, no throwing things or big, dramatic scenes. There was just…an ending.

“Things with Wakatoshi and I were…easy. He always knew what I needed. Gave me space when he could tell that I wanted to be alone, and never pushed me to do anything I didn’t want to do.” Tsukishima explains, and Bokuto seems to hang on his every word with rapt attention. Like it’s important. Like any of it matters anymore, when Tsukishima was so sure that he was the only one who still cared.

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here,” Bokuto coaxes him gently.

 _“But,_ that was the problem,” Tsukishima huffs. “He never pushed me. I woke up one morning and realized that if things kept going on the way they were, Wakatoshi would let me stay exactly where I was for the rest of my life, never force me out of my comfort zone or make me try for anything better. He was…content. But I needed more from him that that. I needed someone to push me.”

He laughs a little under his breath. To this day, it was a strange notion. The thought that he, Tsukishima Kei, was unhappy in a relationship because his partner gave him space and let him be and never tried to make him anything more than that, when as a teenager he never wanted anything more than to be left alone. And he was happy like that, he was perfectly content with his life with Ushijima, but after a while, a tiny, hushed voice in the back of his mind kept asking him _why?_ Why just settle for being content, when you could be so much more?

That tiny voice sounded suspiciously like Bokuto.

Bokuto makes a noise of understanding. “And he didn’t want to do that?”

“He said he didn’t know how.” Tsukishima frowns at the memory of the pained, almost confused look on Ushijima’s face that day. He could feel how badly his boyfriend had wanted to provide for him and make him happy, but he just wasn’t hard-wired that way. They just weren’t built for the long run. “The only person he knows how to push is himself, and he had a lot of his own things going on with training for the Adlers and everything, so…”

_So we didn’t make it._

He doesn’t say the words out loud, but he thinks Bokuto probably hears them anyways. His brows are furrowed, like he’s thinking hard to himself.

“Well that doesn’t make any sense to me,” he finally declares after a few minutes. “What’s the point of doing anything if your not helping someone else?”

Tsukishima can’t help but let out a short, sad laugh. If that isn’t the most prime example of who Bokuto is as a person, Tsukishima doesn’t know what is. He’s practically Ushijima’s perfect opposite, unable to _not_ care about others and push them to be their best.

 _One hundred and twenty percent,_ that was what Akaashi told Tsukishima that Bokuto asked of him. He didn’t want Akaashi to just do his best, he wanted him realize that he could do even more than that.

Tsukishima loved Ushijima, of course he did, but he’s always know that he could never love him more than he loved Bokuto Koutarou, all the way down to his golden-plated soul, from the moment he met him eight years ago.

“I don’t know, Bokuto-san. I really don’t know.”

Bokuto throws his hands up in exasperation. “Still with the honorifics? I’m starting to get a complex here!”

*

Tsukishima shouldn’t ask, he’s not sure he even really wants to know, but, well, he’s always been a bit of a masochist when it comes to Ushijima (take that as you will).

“Have you met her?”

Bokuto hikes Tsukishima’s work bag higher up on his shoulder and gives a quick, stilted nod. “Yeah, she’s come to a few events with Wakatoshi.”

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, but Tsukishima still feels the sting of knowing he’s been fully replaced. By a _woman,_ nonetheless. People probably don’t whisper about them two of them behind their backs when they walk by, like they always did when Ushijima brought Tsukishima places. How lovely for them.

“What’s she like?” He asks quietly.

“She’s…nice,” Bokuto says hesitantly. “You’re much nicer, though!”

“Really?” Tsukishima arches an eyebrow and Bokuto laughs.

“Okay, maybe not,” he admits. “But you’re way more fun, and that’s the truth!”

In Bokuto’s eyes, Tsukishima thinks that’s a much higher compliment. He smiles, small and pleased and looks down at his feet to hide it. “Thanks.”

“And you’re much prettier, too.”

Tsukishima chokes on his tongue and almost runs face-first into a street sign. Luckily, Bokuto tugs him out of the way at the last second, with a firm hand wrapped completely around his bicep, and he stumbles for a few steps until Bokuto steadies him with a concerned look.

“Are you okay?”

 _“What?”_ Tsukishima finally manages to croak out. Bokuto scrunches up his face in fucking _adorable_ confusion and it’s so, so cruel. He literally has no idea what he’s even doing to Tsukishima’s long-suppressed feelings for him.

“I’m sorry!” Bokuto’s face suddenly falls in horror. “Did I offend you?”

“Offend me?” Tsukishima parrots, feeling too hot and completely off-kilter.

“Yeah, you know, like,” Bokuto makes a few vague hand motions. “Because you’re a guy, and some guys don’t like being called pretty.”

“Oh.” Tsukishima’s face is on fire now. “No, I - I don’t mind being called…that.”

_I actually happen to like it a whole fucking lot._

“Good,” Bokuto nods to himself, pleased. “Because that’s one hundred percent the truth, too.”

If the night had ended just like that, with Tsukishima gaining the knowledge that Bokuto Koutarou thought he was _pretty,_ that would have been more than enough for him.

As it so happens, that is not how the night ended.

“That’s my building, right up there on the next block,” Tsukishima says, pointing when the familiar red brick building comes into view. His heart is sinking, but he knew this moment would come, that this night couldn’t really last forever.

“Yeah, I remember.” Bokuto’s face is screwed up like he’s in pain.

“What’s wrong? Does you shoulder hurt?” Tsukishima _tsks_ and reaches to take his bag back. “I told you that you didn’t have to -”

“No!” Bokuto insists quickly, holding on tightly to the bag’s strap. “No it’s fine. I was just thinking…”

“Thinking what?”

“That I wish you lived a little farther away. You know what I mean?”

Tsukishima’s heart lurches painfully. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” He looks up at the building in disdain. “I never even liked this apartment. I would’ve liked to be further from the city and all the noise, but Wakatoshi chose it so he could be closer to the Adler’s home training gym, and now…”

Now, he’s the one still stuck in it.

“If you don’t like where you are, just move,” Bokuto says simply, because to Bokuto, everything is simple. Just another way he was Ushijima’s opposite.

To Ushijima, everything was a complex matrix, a problem to be solved and attacked from all angles. Tsukishima was much the same way, so when it came to making decisions, the two of them could go back and forth debating pros and cons for days - sometimes weeks. He wonders what his life would be like now if he had spent those years with someone more like Bokuto. Someone to balance him out and make all of life’s complications seem so much simpler.

“It really is a shame you were already so head-over-heels for Akaashi by the time we met,” Tsukishima muses aloud. “Maybe if you hadn’t been, I never would have fallen for Wakatoshi, and none of this would have ever happened.”

Bokuto stops short just as they’re rounding the corner of Tsukishima’s apartment building. Tsukishima stops too, confused but stepping to the side so they aren’t standing right in the middle of the sidewalk, and the streetlight overhead illuminates Bokuto’s face enough that he can perfectly make out the look of shock. His eyes are big and round and yellow like a full moon, jaw hanging open.

“Wait…” He gapes for a few seconds longer. “Are you saying that you _liked_ me in high school?”

Tsukishima frowns. “I thought it was pretty obvious.”

He went to every length to make sure that he and Bokuto were never left alone together during the training camp, to avoid all of the other boy’s friendly touches and sit as far away from him as possible at every meal. He very clearly treated Bokuto differently than all of the other boys.

“Obvi - Tsukki, I thought you _hated_ me! Or, like, tolerated me at best!”

Okay, so maybe it was only obvious to him…

“I was…keeping a careful distance,” Tsukishima finally admits. “To protect myself. It was painfully clear to anyone with eyes how you felt about Akaashi, so I didn’t want to let myself get too close to you and just end up getting hurt.”

Bokuto suddenly snaps his fingers. “That’s why you’ve been calling me Bokuto-san all this time!” Slowly, further realization crosses his features, eyes wide and unreadable. “You’ve been calling me Bokuto-san… All this time?”

There’s an unspoken question there, and Tsukishima can’t find it in himself to lie. Not to Bokuto.

“Yeah. I have.”

Bokuto blinks rapidly at him and Tsukishima can practically see the wheels turning in his head. “You still called me that tonight… After all these years…”

He's not asking this time, so Tsukishima doesn’t respond.

After all these years, and probably for many, many more years to come. Tsukishima would always be in love with Bokuto, like a splinter in his heart that he could never fully remove, his feelings for Bokuto would never leave him.

A spectrum of emotions play across Bokuto’s face too quickly for Tsukishima to name them all.

“Tsukki,” he finally says, barely above a whisper. Tsukishima swallows hard and leans back against the wall behind him, not trusting his knees to hold steady through whatever happens next - good or bad. _Please, please be good._

“Mmm?”

Bokuto takes a step closer, his stare locking Tsukishima firmly in place like a vice around him. When he speaks, Tsukishima has to force himself not to stare at his mouth, which is quite a feat given how close they are now. “Do you remember that moment thing I was telling you about?”

“Yeah,” Tsukishima breathes. “Why?”

“I think… I think I’m having one right now.”

Tsukishima’s heart beats so hard, he’s almost afraid that if he opens his mouth again, it’ll jump right out. “Really?” He manages on a rushed exhale. 

Bokuto nods, starts to lift one of his hands towards Tsukishima’s face and stops just inches from his cheek, eyebrows drawing together. “Are you - Do you think maybe you’re having one, too?” He asks, suddenly sounding hesitant and unsure. 

Knowing that Bokuto is just as nervous as he is gives Tsukishima the confidence he needs to touch Bokuto first, one hand on either side of his face, pinky fingers brushing over the hinge of his jaw. They fit perfectly, he notes with a warm rush of satisfaction.

“Yes.” 

Bokuto presses him up against the brick wall and kisses him.

It starts off gentle enough that Tsukishima could resist if he wanted to, but when he winds his arms around Bokuto’s neck to make the kiss even deeper, to make it very clear that he has _zero_ intention of resisting, Bokuto makes a low, needy sound and his control breaks. Tsukishima's suddenly being gripped tight, Bokuto’s hands hot like a brand on his skin, one on the side of his neck, holding him in place as he angles the kiss even further, and the other grabbing his hip and pulling. _Hard._

Their bodies collide and there’s an urgency, a desperation rising up in Tsukishima that he’s never felt with anyone else he’s ever kissed before. Maybe because he’s wanted Bokuto for longer than he’s ever wanted anyone before, or maybe simply because he wants him the most. More than blood in his veins or oxygen in his lungs, he wants _this._ Bokuto’s strong arms wrapped around him, making him feel safe and wanted and complete.

He’s burning, a hot flush from his toes to the tips of his ears, clinging to Bokuto like he’s the last life preserver and the ship is going down. Their kisses are long and slow and heated and Tsukishima’s hands are mapping out the muscles of Bokuto’s arms while Bokuto’s hands wrap almost completely around his waist, thumbs digging into his hipbones. Tsukishima has a good couple of inches on Bokuto in terms of height, but he feels small and safe, trapped between the wall and Bokuto’s firm body.

 _“Shit,”_ Bokuto curses low between their lips when Tsukishima can’t stand to not taste the inside of the other man’s mouth for even a second longer, parting Bokuto’s lips with his tongue and lightly tracing the back of his teeth. There’s a loud _thud_ sound and they break apart, chests heaving and breath mingling between them.

“You dropped my work table,” Tsukishima observes. Bokuto shrugs helplessly.

“You’re a really good kisser,” he says by way of explanation. Tsukishima flushes at the praise.

“It’s a really expensive piece of equipment, you know.” Tsukishima tilts his head so that the tips of their noses brush.

“I’ll buy you ten more, if you want me to.” Bokuto’s hand comes up to straighten out Tsukishima’s glasses and tuck a stray hair behind his ear. It’s almost too tender of an action for the way that they’re pressed together and still panting for breath.

“Twenty?” Tsukishima bats his eyelashes.

“Yeah,” Bokuto breathes. “Fuck, I’ll buy you twenty.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tsukishima scoffs, smacking his shoulder lightly. “I have no use for twenty massage tables.”

Bokuto’s entire body shakes with his laughter and Tsukishima feels the way his muscles shift beneath his fingertips that are splayed across his back. Bokuto’s head drops to knock their foreheads together, and a little grin creeps unbidden onto Tsukishima’s face, all of the heated desperation from earlier simmering into something pleasantly buzzing and warm.

“I have a confession to make,” Bokuto says, breath fanning across Tsukishima’s lips.

“Go on, then.”

“I wasn’t really worried about you violating uniform regulations at the charity game.”

“No kidding?” Tsukishima deadpans.

“I just _really_ like your legs.”

As if to prove his point, Bokuto grabs Tsukishima by the back of one of his thighs to hike his leg up around his waist. Instinctively, Tsukishima hooks his knee around Bokuto’s body, forcing them closer together from their chests to their hips, and Tsukishima can’t help but tilt his body further into Bokuto’s, the heat making his head swim and the hard lines of Bokuto’s body making him want to cry tears of desperation for how badly he wants - he wants - _he wants -_

He wants to do this for the first time in an actual bed and not against a brick wall that is starting to dig _very_ uncomfortably into his shoulder blades.

“Hold on, hold on,” Tsukishima gasps, fighting every cell in his body and forcing himself to put some distance between them. Bokuto pulls away from where he had been pressing wet kisses to the side of Tsukishima’s throat, cheeks red and lips shiny and - _fuck._

Tsukishima simply has to kiss him again, even though he was the one who just said to stop.

“Okay.” He holds Bokuto back more firmly this time, more for his sake than Bokuto’s. “Okay, um.” Bokuto licks his lips and grins and it makes it very hard for Tsukishima’s brain to function. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Bokuto responds with a dopey grin that perfectly mirrors the way Tsukishima feels. Like he’s love drunk, or high off of Bokuto’s kisses.

“That was…unexpected.”

“Really?” Bokuto slips the tips of his fingers beneath the collar of Tsukishima’s shirt. “I kind of feel like it was a long time coming. Akaashi and Kuroo have been nagging me to ask you out to dinner for months now.”

“You forgot about the dinner part,” Tsukishima points out, shivering when Bokuto lightly traces his collarbone.

“I was working up to it,” Bokuto mumbles, cheeks turning a faint pink.

Tsukishima wants to laugh and maybe cry a little bit. The thought that all these months that Tsukishima spent miserable and pining - all these _years_ that he’s been in love with Bokuto - and Bokuto was nervously trying to work up the courage to ask _him_ out? It’s infuriating and perfect and almost too good to be true. What he settles for instead is punching Bokuto square in the middle of his - _wow, sculpted, perfectly sculpted_ \- chest.

“Ouch,” Bokuto says, probably more for Tsukishima’s benefit than out of actual pain. Tsukishima’s fist had practically bounced right off of him.

“Do it now, then,” Tsukishima demands. “Ask me out to dinner.”

“Hm, dinner…” Bokuto purses his lips thoughtfully, looking unhappy at the idea, and Tsukishima’s heart sinks. Had he misread this entire situation? Was Bokuto having second thoughts about him now that they’d actually kissed? “Dinner is a little too far away, don’t you think?”

Tsukishima blinks, downward spiraling grinding to a halt. “What?”

“How about breakfast?” Bokuto grins. “That way we can see each other sooner.”

Tsukishima laughs, a relieved rush of breath leaving him all at once, and his heart swells with happiness. Bokuto makes a muffled sound of surprise when Tsukishima angles his head and dips in for another kiss, this one softer and sweeter than the rest. Just a delicate press of their lips, Bokuto’s hand curled in his shirt and Tsukishima’s fingers in his hair and all the years they missed out on this fading away until they’re nothing but two teenage boys stealing innocent kisses.

“Breakfast sounds good, but if you try to wake me up before noon I won’t be held accountable for my actions.” Tsukishima points a warning finger in his face. Bokuto just laughs and kisses Tsukishima’s forehead, before picking his bag back up in one hand and taking Tsukishima’s hand with the other, leading him to the front door of his building.

“You’re going to be a lot of fun to fall in love with, aren’t you, Tsukki?”

By all accounts, it should have been one of the worst nights of Tsukishima’s life. Of course, with Bokuto by his side, that became an impossibility.

*

Two weeks later, Tsukishima goes to Ushijima’s wedding as Bokuto’s date.

They both end up missing the moment that the bride and groom kiss as husband and wife for the first time, because Bokuto is catching Tsukishima’s lips with his at the same exact moment, and he’s all Tsukishima can see.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i just love these two a lot okay :'))) the world needs more of them!! more of them!!!
> 
> stay tuned for some more of my shorter projects that i'll be posting before i have to buckle back down to write the greek tragedy sequel aaaaand ily guys
> 
> thanks for reading, let me know what you thought in the comments and feel free to come chill be friends with me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/oiiblondie)


End file.
